


His Royal Prize

by Harpalyke



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Creampie, Crying, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Involuntary Arousal, Loss of Virginity, Mocking, Objectification, Ritual Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Coercion, mild choking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 22:00:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21483520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harpalyke/pseuds/Harpalyke
Summary: The Mermerites' invasion is an abstract concept until they conquer Kymer and murder the royal family. All except for Princess Idat, who they present to their greatest warrior as a gift. She learns the hard way what exactly that means.
Relationships: Enemy Soldier/Royal Princess
Comments: 4
Kudos: 153
Collections: Naughty List 2019





	His Royal Prize

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redcandle17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcandle17/gifts).

Princess Idat of Kymer was hiding in a tiny room, whose door was tucked away behind the statue of Pan. In this room, she could not stand upright nor move very much at all. Fortunately, there was a narrow gap in the bricks, allowing in fresh air and the sounds of ruckus from the battles below. Idat had watched the sun rise, set, rise, and now it was lowering in the west again. From the noise outside, she couldn’t deduce who was winning, but it sounded like many men, both Kymerian and Mermerite, were bleeding and dying. 

But now, all was quiet except for the barking of dogs. Had the battles finally ceased? Had the Mermerites conquered? Idat didn’t fully understand what would happen if the Mermerites conquered, only that it would be bad, since the Mermerites were savage and power-hungry. Their first targets were the royal family, hence why the servant had shut Idat in here. Where had the rest gone—? 

Her wondering was cut off by the scuffling of footsteps from the corridor, very close to the statue. 

“...find her up here?” a man’s voice drawled, slicing through the thickened air. “Doesn’t seem like there’s anyone left in this castle.” 

“Princess, are you here? Come out now! It is safe!” 

Idat held her breath, locked in place. On the very basic bodily level, she was dying to get the hell out of there and stretch and have a meal. Her stomach was hollow, her mouth dry. But what if they were Mermerites, lying to her? They might have been savages, but she’d heard somewhere that they were very cunning. 

“Come, princess, you’re no longer in danger!” 

Before she could think twice, Idat crawled out of the tiny room, aching from crouching so long. When she emerged from behind the statue of Pan, she saw with terror that these two men were indeed Mermerites, clad in uniforms of deep red—to hide the bloodstains, she supposed—and their caps adorned with the brass falcon, fastened to blonde hair. 

They immediately spotted her and advanced closer. “Ah, there you are, princess. Come with us.” 

She couldn’t make herself move before they each took an arm and marched her down the corridor. All was still quiet. Where was everyone? They were heading, she realized, to the throne.  _ Please, oh please, let them be telling the truth about the danger…  _

The sight that greeted her was so bizarre, Idat wondered if she was dreaming, perhaps still asleep in the tiny room. About a dozen Mermerite soldiers stood, also in uniform on either side of a table with nothing but a white cloth draped over it. Behind it stood the marble throne, occupied by not her father like she’d desperately hoped, but yet another Mermerite soldier. He was seated casually upon it, legs slung over the golden armrest, until Idat and the two soldiers entered the hall. 

He rose to his feet, watching them drag the princess closer. To Idat, the Mermerites looked like ordinary men, not like the animals she’d imagined whenever she’d heard of them. They were all very tall, with varying shades of that odd blonde hair, so unlike the signature deep brown of the Kymerians. As she came closer, she did see a wolfish quality in their features.

The two soldiers beside her suddenly stopped short, still clasped onto her upper arms. “Tarvos, oh great warrior of Mermeron!” the one on the left bellowed suddenly, causing her to flinch. “For your prize of slaying King Ensley, as tradition dictates, we present to you his fair daughter for your pleasure!” 

So they had killed her parents. Perhaps another time, when she was not prey to a pack of wolves, Idat would feel sorrow and mourn the king and queen. Now she only felt the chill of naked fear running through her entire body. Though she didn’t miss them, necessarily, for they never spent much time with her, their absence left her vulnerable to the Mermerites. Undoubtedly, this Tarvos would kill her, splash her blood across the white tablecloth. But nobody was drawing swords…

“I have heard many times that the princess of Kymer is beautiful,” he said in a low, somewhat flat voice. “And she is lovelier than I even imagined.” 

An absurd flush rose to Idat’s cheeks as she kept her eyes trained on his boots.  _ Please, if I’m so pretty, please show me mercy!  _ She wanted to shout those words out loud, but her jaw was stuck in place. 

“Gentlemen, bring her forward.” 

They were moving again, taking only a few steps. Tarvos met them halfway until he was standing nearly toe-to-toe with Idat, looming nearly a foot over her. With her breath hitched in her throat, she stared at his broad chest and waited for his next move. 

“I think we all know how I will enjoy her, yes?” he said to the others. 

His question was answered with snickers and cheers. His hand lifted, the light of the chandelier glinting off a short, flat blade. Idat closed her eyes, biting her lips to keep them from quivering. She tried not to imagine the feeling of the blade plunging into her chest and tearing into her heart, spilling even more Kymerian royal blood for the greedy Mermerites to lap up. 

However, Tarvos had other plans. He pulled Idat’s dress away from her chest and sliced it clean down the middle. It fell to her feet, displaying her undergarments and smooth, taut skin in almost the same shade of white to the room. Idat couldn’t hide her trembling, but she kept her face still, refusing to cry. The Kymerian royal family did not display such overt emotional responses, especially in the face of their enemies. 

Perhaps they’d simply leave her like this and leer at her until they grew bored of her. That was hopelessly optimistic—they were Mermerites, after all. “Undress her,” Tarvos commanded, his grey-blue eyes now alive with amusement.

The two others did as told, unhooking and tugging and handling her roughly.  _ Don’t cry, don’t you dare cry in front of them. _ Her hair fell loose from its plait, helping to conceal her shoulders and small, pert breasts. Idat was eighteen, yet she hadn’t developed much past age thirteen; hopefully, her child-like appearance would deter them. 

On the contrary, they grew hungrier, like they were about to lean over and sink their teeth into her flesh at any moment. She was forced backward until her back was flat on the table. 

“Hold your legs up, princess,” the man in front of her ordered. Idat noticed just then how much older he was, his dark blonde hair streaked with grey, the many battles etched into his face. She willed her legs to lift, but she couldn’t move. 

This aggravated him: he leaned over and in a blink, his hand was pressing into her jaw. “You would do well to obey my command, princess. Remember, I rule over Kymer now. As luck would have it, my enemy has a fair young daughter to enjoy.” 

He’d directed that last line to his gang of thugs, but now he lowered his eyes to her, brushing away her hair so that she was more exposed. Idat closed her eyes and tried to go somewhere else. It didn’t work, prevented by his knuckles stroking her cheek, sliding over her jaw and down her neck. 

She gave an involuntary shudder. No one had ever touched her in such a way. He didn’t stop there—now he was cupping her breast, less than half his handful, lightly pinching her nipples.  _ No, oh Pan, this is so awful... _ but was it really? The tingles running through her were not of fear— _ of course they are… _

“What a pretty little thing you are.” Tarvos’ voice was still flat, his face still blank, but his unwavering gaze was fixed on her face. He kneaded her breasts before giving one a slap, smirking as it bounced. “I’m going to have plenty of fun indeed with you.” 

This should have horrified her, but the sharp slaps against her soft skin awakened an intense need in her abdomen, building between her legs. Worse yet, somehow, he noticed. 

“You enjoy this, don’t you, princess?” he sneered, trailing his fingers down her torso. 

Idat shook her head, but of course she couldn’t fool him. 

“No? Your cunt says otherwise.” He rubbed her tender flesh, smearing hot juices over her labia. “You see how bad she wants it, gentlemen? She’s dripping wet. Look how her legs open for me.” 

She realized with horror that her hands had snaked under her thighs and held up her legs. 

“Well, well, who would’ve guessed that Princess Idat, Kymer’s royal darling, is such an eager little whore?” 

“No!” Idat burst out, her voice cracked and shrill. “Please, no!” 

Tarvos shook his head, dismissing her. “What do you think, gentlemen? Do you think the princess is ready to give herself up?” They whistled in response, intensifying her horror. 

Idat couldn’t take it anymore—her name in his voice, his hands on her, the sensation sending jolts through her… “No, oh please!” The tears came full-force and to hell with _Kymerian royalty keeps a controlled appearance at all times_, because this was not _all times_. But she had to stop. He would likely grow impatient and pull out that blade again. 

He did not; instead he leaned over and whispered into her ear. “Don’t cry, princess. This is where the fun starts.” His scent matched his reputation of brute warrior: sweat, blood, dirt, leather. 

“No!” she cried, shaking with sobs. “Please, I don’t want—!” An unflattering squeak cut off her plea as his finger slid into her. 

“Oh, no?” he breathed, slowly pulling it back out. “You don’t want this? Then why does your eager little cunt swallow up my finger?” 

Idat had no answer, for he was right: her hips were rocking slightly in rhythm with his thrusts. He latched onto her neck and slid another one in, causing her to squeal again. Her hands curled into fists and her back arched, overwhelmed with the desire radiating from her neck and cunt.  _ No, no, no! _ Yet the chant was fading. 

Breathing heavily, Tarvos moved away for a minute, holding her down loosely by her throat. It was this touch that aroused her most of all, so much so that when she was filled with something much larger than two fingers, she let out a mere whimper. 

“Nice and tight,” he announced to more snickering and whistling. “What a prize I’ve won.” 

Idat had forgotten about the others and it took only a few thrusts to forget about them again. The initial pinch of her destroyed virginity was lessening, allowing desire to flood back in. Her cries betrayed the pleasure she was experiencing, the cool facade completely gone. 

“She loves it,” Tarvos growled as he pumped into her. “She takes it like a filthy whore.” Though he was talking about her, he was looking at her, his hands around her throat. 

“No,” Idat choked out. She was not telling him  _ no, stop, _ but rather  _ no, don’t stop, _ because she didn’t want him to release her throat and leave her yearning. Her breath was escaping and not coming back, blocking all else but the desire wrenching her from the inside. Her back was arching, the crown of her head driving into the table... 

“That’s it, princess…” 

Idat squeezed her eyes shut and gave a sharp, involuntary cry as sweet relief took over, soaking them both between their legs. Tarvos came a moment later, gushing his seed into her until it spurted out as he moved away. 

Roughly, he spread her legs, showing off her swollen, leaking cunt. “See what you earn when you conquer, gentlemen?” 

Idat barely heard the claps and cheers through the fog of orgasm. Rather than coming peacefully back to reality, she was thrown back on the table, aching and used. Her cheeks were wet with tears, her chest heaving. 

“Come on, sweetheart.” He pulled her to her feet and led her to the doorway to the right of the throne. Hot fluid streamed freely down her legs and there was nothing she could do about it. A sharp slap came to her rear, causing her to jump forward, much to the others’ amusement. 

Head ducked, Idat hugged her shoulders and wept, letting Tarvos guide her into a bedchamber. For one horrible moment, she suspected it belonged to her parents, but the closet and furniture were bare. 

He pulled back the blanket and nudged her to climb into the bed. She obliged, but when she was finally, blessedly concealed, she asked, “Will–will you let me go?” 

He chuckled as if she was an endearing little girl. “No, you are to stay here and give yourself up when I so require it.” He stroked her cheek, still grinning. “You’ll be spending a lot of time exactly as you are now, princess—with your cunt pounded and filled with my seed.”

Without another word, Tarvos left the room and locked her in, evidenced by the click of a key in the door, the ritual complete. This was Idat’s fate—not even a princess but a concubine, a  _ toy _ for a Mermerite. Was this preferable to death?

It’s what you deserve, she reminded herself, trying and failing to still her shaking. She had enjoyed Tarvos’ affections, craved them. Shame oozed out of her through sweat and tears and come as she cocooned herself in the blanket. 

And yet, even through the crying and the aching, Idat anticipated Tarvos’ return. A very small but powerfully sick part of her hoped for him to come soon. 


End file.
